Fire and Ice
by Ayriel
Summary: A series of one-shots for the cast of Fushigi Yugi, featuring all characters, pairings and genres. --Simple Matters: Chichiri had a tendency to over analyze and over debate things. Tasuki, however, was pretty straightforward.--
1. A Mother's Love

**Disclaimer: **Fushigi Yugi and all its characters are the property of its creator, Yuu Watase.

**Title:** A Mother's Love

**Genre: **General

**Prompt: **Parents

**Words: **2,209

**Rating: **PG

**Warnings**: Some naughty words courtesy of Tasuki.

**Summary**: Somehow, when I hadn't been looking, she'd grown into a woman. A mama Yuuki fic.

* * *

Miaka has always been precious to me.

After Keisuke, I thought I'd never get pregnant again. I suffered miscarriage after miscarriage, agonizing loss after agonizing loss, but miraculously, when Keisuke was only four, I learned I was expecting another child. Naturally, I was overjoyed, but by then the damage had already been done. My husband walked out of our home and our lives when Miaka was only a newborn. I was twenty-eight years old with two small children and no way to support them. Before I even allowed myself to grieve the end of my marriage, I applied for every job I could, doing everything from waiting tables to proofreading copy to make ends meet. Sometimes, I did both. But my children were young and needing more every day, so I had no choice. Often I wondered… what if I gave up now? What if I just laid down and slept forever? But just when I felt my worst, my legs sore from being on my feet all day and my pride bruised by careless customers, I'd come home to my darlings. They always hugged me, exclaimed how much they missed me, and how they hoped I had a good day. When I looked into their eyes, I saw the beauty of a perfect world, and then suddenly, nothing could touch me. As long as I had Keisuke and Miaka to care for, I would do anything – and everything – to support our family, and I would never complain.

So time went by.

It's so amazing, how your children grow up before your very eyes. They're smiling and rambling about their awesome first day of grade school, but you can still only envision them in diapers, their skin soft and smelling of baby powder. It's a beautiful thing, but so scary too, because as they grow, you know you can't protect them as much anymore. They're eager to discover a brand new world, a world that's amazing and intriguing and so dangerous and uncertain, but no matter how much you want to keep them to yourself, you know you can't. It's not fair to them. It's selfish and foolish, to want to hide your child from the harsh realities of life. It will break them; that much is certain, but after all, you can't pick them up if you don't let them fall. Miaka… poor girl, she fell a lot. I still remember how she was picked on in preschool, how girls she thought were her friends would push her to the ground and kick dirt in her eyes. She was always too trusting; too willing to give her all to people who gave none in return. I suppose that's one of her greatest strengths, and also one of her greatest weaknesses. But no matter what happened, she always came home smiling.

"Miaka!" I would cry, observing her dirtied dress and the scraps on her arms. "Miaka-chan, what happened?" I still remember her answer, no matter when it was:

"_Iie_, s'okay, mama." She always grinned, proudly showing off the gaps in her smile. "I fell down and messed up the dress you bought me, but I'm fine! Everything's going to be okay!"

I don't consider myself a genius, but I'm not a stupid woman. I knew she was lying. But I never called her on it.

Maybe, deep down, we just both needed to pretend.

/---/

She was fifteen.

We'd just had another fight about, as usual, her studies. Miaka was much more eager about shopping at the mall with Yui than studying for her entrance exams, and it made me so angry. I suppose, thinking back on it, I was too hard on her. But I wanted for my children everything I had always wanted, but never got. I wanted so much more for my daughter than a life of waiting tables. I wanted her to succeed in life, and never depend on a man to support her. I only wanted her to be happy. Why couldn't she see that?

During this particular fight, Miaka had huffed and stomped her foot. "Mom! Maybe I don't want to go to Jonan! That's your dream, not mine!" Despite all of that, she did take the time to mention that she would be going to the library after school today, and not to expect her until late. I didn't see my baby again for several more hours, but I thought of her often. _My_ dream? Didn't she know that everything I did, I did for her and her brother? And then when I saw her again she had found some boy to obsess over… some boy named Tamahome-! Maybe I overreacted that time, but it was a bit too much for me to take. Everything I tried to do for her, and she took it for granted?! I slapped her. Hard. The next thing I knew, Miaka was gone. She was missing for hours before she finally turned up again. I apologized for hitting her, but she didn't make things any better by saying that she'd been inside a library book, of all things. I wanted to shake some sense into her, the little devil.

The next morning, we parted ways as usual. The tension of before was gone, and Miaka even promised me that she would study twice as hard in school that day. I didn't think it significant then, but now I remember wanting to hold her tight and never let her go. I remember thinking that she was slipping away from me, and that once she was gone, I'd never have her in quite the same way again. I remember wanting to break down and cry as I watched her bounce happily out of the door, just as she did every morning. But it felt so very different. Perhaps it was just my imagination, but I could swear that I saw my daughter _glowing._

She came home late that night, but she was… changed. As soon as she saw me, Miaka began to sob and launched herself into my arms. "I've missed you so much, Mom!"

Naturally, I was confused. "Miaka, I just saw you this morning."

And then she smiled at me, a soft warm smile that touched me to my core. She was beautiful. And for the first time, I saw her as the woman she was destined to be.

"Yeah, but it seems like so much longer…"

Miaka didn't get into Jonan, but somehow it no longer mattered. She had changed. She wasn't my baby anymore. She had become something more. Somehow, when I hadn't been looking… Miaka had grown into a woman. And I had missed it. Just as she'd said herself, I'd been too wrapped up in my own agenda to notice something so wondrous while it was happening. Even so, I never would've thought that it would occur as quickly as it did. It didn't make any sense.

I doubt that it ever will.

/---/

Today is her wedding day.

She is so beautiful. She is nothing like the fifteen year old she was before. Although she is still a bit of a glutton, I've noticed that she is also calmer now. More… mature. She has lost the last of her baby fat, and her face is lean and radiant as she leans against Taka's arm and waves to the crowd. I feel tears building in my eyes, but I wipe them quickly away. This is not the time for tears. This is not a sad time, but a happy one. There is no reason why I should miss her; she's standing right in front of me. I'm still trying to convince myself of that when Keisuke approaches me, crying openly though he occasionally reaches up to dab the tears away with the sleeve of his tuxedo. I consider reprimanding him for it, but think better of it. He smiles at me.

"She's really grown, hasn't she?"

I return his smile, though I still can't shake the feeling that somehow, I've missed something. Taka is a wonderful man, but his courting with Miaka has happened in the blink of an eye. I still remember when I used to blame him for corrupting Miaka when they both disappeared for several months, although I've grown more accepting of him as I've gotten to know him and his family. Still, I feel that she is rushing things and I have told her so, but the knowledgeable smile she gave me in response halted any further protests. "Taka is right for me, mom," she told me softly. "I know I might look silly to you now, but I know I'm making the right decision."

That feeling again. Loss. Since when did she become the insightful one, and I the one who needed to be taught?

"Yes," I finally answer my son. "She really has. It's almost hard for me to let her go." Keisuke ushers me over to a nearby bench, where we sit together with a perfect view of the wedding reception. The general atmosphere is jovial and the air is full of the sound of merry laughter and chatter. I consider stopping there, but the earnest look on my son's face makes me think better of it. "I feel like I'm losing her," I admit. "I feel like I've missed out on being there for her."

Keisuke squeezes my shoulder. "Don't worry, mom. Taka's a great guy. He'll take good care of her."

I feel my eyebrows raise as my expression grows incredulous. "Really? And how can you be so sure?"

He chuckles and shakes his head. "Just trust me. Those two belong together. Not even the pits of hell could separate them now."

Why was it that now everyone knew what was best except for me?

/---/

The wedding party is finally beginning to disperse as the sun slides toward the horizon. Yet still I sit on this bench, staring off into space as I ponder on where exactly all the time has gone. Suddenly I feel a presence just behind me, but thinking it to be Keisuke, I feel comfortable enough not to turn around. But when the person speaks, it is a sultry woman and not my son. Must be someone from Taka's side of the family, I think.

"She looked so beautiful, didn't she?" The woman says, her words carried on a reminiscent sigh. "I almost have a hard time connecting that radiant bride with the goofy food monger we all know and love."

I smiled. "Yes, I-"

"'Bout time they finally tied th' knot, though," A rough male voice mumbles from the side of me. I whirl around, but no one is there – not the man, and not even the woman. "They deserve ta be together after all th' shit they had ta go through."

"Yes, I concur!" This time, the voice is high-pitched and intelligent. Perhaps a young girl? Was I going crazy? "No one deserves happiness more than Miaka and Tama- I mean, Taka."

"The outfits of this world are extremely peculiar, however," a second male voice says. "Taka seemed to be quite uncomfortable."

"Haha… Of course he's uncomfortable – he's signin' th' rest o' his life away! Ya won't see _me _doin' that shi- Ow!"

"Shut it, Fang Boy! You're ruining a joyous occasion!"

"Ssh… stop being so loud, no da!" Another male whispers. "She can hear us, you know!" The rising voices quiet.

"…You would look quite good in one of those outfits, Heika-sama. What did Miaka call them? A… tux-ue-du?"

"No, a _tuxedo_, dumbass. An' ya call _me_ stupid- Ow! Damnit, stop hittin' me, ya cross-dressing' lil'…"

"Oh, Suzaku... It's like dealing with children. Come on, you two. We need to get back to Mt. Taikyoku before Taiitsukun's magic wears off. This wasn't supposed to be a permanent thing, you know."

"Hai, hai, Mitsukake!"

The sun glows brilliant orange as it disappears behind the horizon. In the last light it emits before it falls, I see faint outlines of five young men and a woman, all turned towards the dwindling crowds. Taka and Miaka are long gone, off to begin their new lives as husband and wife, but their family and friends still look on. I stare in utter disbelief as the hallucinations disappear before my eyes, but not before a tall man with gravity-defying blue hair turns and smiles knowingly at me. At this point, I'm at peace with it – yes, in matter of fact I have gone completely insane. I hear a large bird trilling in the distance. For some reason, a feeling of peace washes over me.

There are some things in this world we are not meant to know. There are precious blessings we will receive, that, no matter how much we try to compel them, will never reveal their secrets to us. Miaka's 'sudden' transformation is one of those things. But I won't waste time anymore feeling sad about it; rather, I should be proud that I had a hand in raising a girl who has turned out to be such an amazing woman. Even though it's hard, you have to learn to let your children go.

Because that's the way it has to be.

And I smile.

XXXXXX

**A/N**: As it's been forever since I've read or watched Fushigi Yugi, I don't remember if the sequence of events Mrs. Yuuki addresses is completely accurate. So, for the sake of being lazy, I'm calling this an AU. Welcome to my latest venture into FY fanfiction; hope you enjoy!


	2. Walk of a Warrior

**Title: **Walk of a Warrior

**Genre: **Drama

**Prompt: **Broken

**Words: **1,622

**Rating: **PG-13

**Warnings: **language, instances of self-harm

**Summary**: He couldn't change what he'd done, but he could change where he's going.

* * *

The wind outside howled with a fierceness that surprised him, waking him from a fairly light sleep plagued with nightmares. Suddenly the windows rattled with the intensity of a boom of thunder, and then the room flashed bright white from a streak of lightning stretching across the sky outside. Rain began to fall; not the soothing, pitter-patter of a drizzle, but the loud, pounding drops of a fuckin' _monsoon_. The boy groaned and rolled over, his bare back now to the window. He watched the lightning flash and the raindrops fall by way of the blank white wall he was staring at; because his window was large and the night cityscape outside was unbearably bright, even something as insignificant as raindrops cast a shadow. He closed his eyes. The weatherman had promised a warm, if not humid, night without a cloud in the sky, and how unsurprising that the weatherman had been wrong. For Ryu Bunya at least, there'd never be a clear night sky. Ryu rolled his eyes at that thought. Great. Now he was getting all poetically metaphorical and shit.

"_Please," _He whispered, though his voice was rising with every word he uttered, "For once just let me _sleep._"

The digital alarm clock on his bedside table went off, and in a fit of rage he yanked its cord from the wall and threw the clock clear across the room. It smashed against the wall and exploded into a million fragmentary pieces. Ryu repositioned himself in bed again.

"I said I was sorry, all right?" He said to the ceiling, his arms folded behind his head. "It was a long time ago. Can't it be over with now?"

Another gale hammering against the side of his apartment was his answer. The bed springs creaked in protest as Ryu sat up and hid his face in his hands. His body was covered with perspiration from the hard night he'd suffered, and although the room was cool and dry, he still felt as if he was on fire. He couldn't take this anymore. His dreams were threatening to devour him alive.

…Maybe he should let them.

"I don't deserve to breathe air, I get it, damn it. _You're _the one who woke me up tonight. Why? To make me suffer? So I can repent for my sins and all that shit, right?" A sigh. "I don't know what you want me to do about it. I can't change the past. I can't change what I did… who I was."

The young man reluctantly got to his feet and began to pace the bedroom section of his studio apartment, completing a revolution in only a few steps. His long light hair was gathered over one shoulder, and it also was dripping sweat. His dreams always did this to him. He didn't even know who he was talking to, but he hoped someone important was listening. He needed them to. He didn't know how much longer he could last this on his own.

"I bet you that Ayuru isn't fucked up like this. This is _bullshit_."

The golden streetlamps outside cast a warm glow over the room. Although it was one of the more minor reasons why he couldn't sleep, it was also his safety blanket. As long as the room was lit and he was awake, his personal demons couldn't get to him. At least, that was the plan at first. But the gods worked in mysterious ways, and shortly after he began having these dreams when he was only eleven, he started to actually remember _why_ the dreams were significant. He began to realize why he was being tortured like this. It was all because of the mistakes he'd made some hundreds or maybe even thousands of years ago, in a completely different world and life.

Recalling these memories to the forefront of his mind, Ryu discovered how horribly ironic his life - past and present - was. Ryu found it to be the worst kind of irony that he couldn't remember his own dear mother's face, but he could see the rage on _His_ visage so clearly that it chilled his bones every time he imagined it. It was the worst thing in the world to know that though he knew without a doubt that he had loved his brother, he had betrayed his trust by poisoning him, even if Shunkaku had felt it was for his own good…

Ryu flinched. There he was again – referring to Koutaku (or whatever the kid's name would be now) as his brother. His twin. His lifeline. Apparently familial relationships weren't taken into account for reincarnations, because Shunkaku had been born as an only child. No brothers, no sisters, and not even any cousins his age.

But he would continue to call himself Shunkaku, because Shunkaku Bu had a brother who loved him. Despite losing his parents in a bloody, pointless war, Shunkaku Bu had a chance to be something great. And what had he done? Thrown it all away. Now, because of his sins in a past life, Ryu Bunya had _nothing_, and no one. Feeling suddenly lonely, Ryu raced over to his kitchenette and grabbed an X-acto knife off the counter. Having pushed the dull, rusty blade up, he poised it over his right arm for a long moment before he started to carve.

_Can you hear me brother? _He wrote. _Can you see what I'm writing? Write back if you can. _The blade, though dulled with age and excessive use, cut deep slashes into his forearm over old faded scars and still healing scabs. Blood welled up out of the furrows he'd made and spilled down the sides of his arm until it dripped on the dirty linoleum floor. The pain was intense, but he didn't even elicit a tortured cry. Physical pain was easy. It was the _mental_ pain he suffered through that was difficult. He waited for a long time, anticipating that searing pain that meant he had reached his brother, and Koutaku was attempting to reply. But that sweet ecstasy never came. Either Koutaku (or whatever his name was) didn't want to talk to him, or he simply couldn't. Ryu was willing to bet on either option at this point. It wasn't like a sick bastard like who he used to be deserved to have a confidant to make his days and nights easier to bare. Sometimes Ryu would awaken from his fitful rests to a sharp, unbearable pain in his arm, but when he yanked up his appendage to inspect it, he always discovered that, no, that wasn't Koutaku replying to him; that was just the burn of infection setting in. He knew he should probably see a doctor or at least use something to disinfect his cuts, but he didn't have the money, and to some degree he was unwilling to wipe that pain away anyway. It was almost as if he were scared that his dreams would be twice as gruesome if he did. 'More pain for your penance,' or something like that. Yeah, right. _Still, I'm not taking any chances. _

He hated to admit it, but he was breaking. He broke a little more every night when fatigue and sickness pushed him into the land of dreams, and he was forced to remember how he tried to rape a priestess and massacred a teenage boy's entire family. How he was willing to do anything to be noticed by a girl not yet woman who was just as, if not more, damaged as he was. How he killed his own ally and poisoned his own brother – the only person who had really seen him, and loved him, for who he was.

Ryu looked down and noticed that he had run out of space on his arm. In order to make sure his brother got his messages, he had to make them as clear as possible – which meant waiting until some of his arm healed before he wrote to him again. Not willing to wait, Ryu checked his left arm – nope, that was filled up, too – and finally settled on writing on the sole of his foot. He sat down right in the middle of the kitchen floor and angled himself towards the window so he could see. Why it never occurred to use his foot before, he had no idea. Oh wait, now he did know. It hurt _worse_ than a bitch. His whole body would be an entreaty to his lost brother and the gods now. The only body part that was unmarred now was his face, and that was because if he ever saw Amiboshi again, he wanted to be recognizable. Ryu's toes twitched with every cut he made into the tender flesh of his sole. He probably wouldn't be able to walk for a few days, not that he ever went anywhere.

_I know we're not brothers anymore, but…_

_I miss you._

_I'm sorry._

_HELP ME. _

Shunkaku glared defiantly at the ceiling and whichever god it was that was hearing him now. It didn't really matter which one he reached… they were all connected, weren't they? His posture was ramrod straight as he said: "I don't know much… my brother has always been better at these things than I. But one thing I do know… I can't change what I've done, but I _can_ change where I'm going."

He only wished that was enough. Tears welled in his eyes against his will. His hand shaking now, Ryu managed to carve one more desperate sentence into his foot, though he couldn't see if he was covering something else he'd written because the blood had veiled everything.

_I'm so __**sorry**__. _

Suboshi cradled his injured foot and began to cry.

XXXXXX

**A/N: **For the record, Suboshi is near impossible to write for. But that's probably because he's damn near psychotic. Oh well.


	3. Iced Tea

**Title: **Iced Tea

**Genre: **Romance, Reincarnation, Drama

**Prompt: **Introductions

**Words: **11,885

**Rating: **PG-13

**Warnings: **Some mild sexual innuendo.

**Summary: **"Marry me, Miaka. Make me the happiest man on earth, and I promise I'll make you the happiest woman. I will fill your days with love and iced tea." Hotohori/Miaka

* * *

It was the hottest day on record.

His silk shirt stuck to him in the most uncomfortable of places, and the sweat dripping down his brow often fell into his eyes and blurred his vision. He could taste the salt on his own skin, yet here he stood out in the scorching sun when there was a dark, cool office waiting for him inside. Maybe Katya had prepared lemonade with lunch today. He licked his lips and swallowed at the hungry feeling the thought awakened in him, but still he did not move. She shouldn't be long now. He could set his watch by her.

Almost instantly, the object of his obsession strode down the sidewalk toward him. Her dark chocolate hair was piled up in a bun on the top of her head, though several strands had slipped free and remained pasted to the side of her face with sweat. Unlike his expensive, furiously hot attire, this woman wore a thin yellow cotton sundress embroidered with blue flower petals. She walked confidently on two inch heels, her wide hips swaying and her long legs oh so delectable, and when she finally noticed him and smiled Yatsuhiro felt his knees go weak. Good god, he couldn't ever remember being so taken with a woman, let alone a woman he had never held_ a true conversation with_! Pushing all this to the back of his mind, Yatsuhiro smiled softly and stepped down from the porch to meet her. "Mrs. Yuuki, good morning."

Miaka smiled, cocking her head at him. "Good morning, Aoki-san." Her lips twitched, and her grin was playful. "How many times do I have to tell you that I'm not married?"

Yatsuhiro nodded. "Oh yes, I'm sorry. It's just difficult to believe than one as beautiful as you would still be available." Miaka rolled her eyes at that. "I keep thinking that the next time I see you, you'll have a ring on your finger and I would've lost my chance."

"Oh?" Miaka leaned her hip against the stair rail, regarding the man through her eyelashes. "Do you think I'm that shallow, Aoki-san?" She whispered in an irresistible, husky tone. "That I would marry the first, random guy who proposed to me?"

"Of course not. But you must know how strikingly beautiful you are, Miaka." Any attempts at flirting were destroyed at the earnest remark, and Miaka's cheeks flushed deeper even as the sun continued to beat down on her. For the first time Yatsuhiro noticed how small and fragile she looked, her eyes squinted against the sunlight and her skin impossibly pale. He decided to finally take his chance, and he reasoned that it had nothing to do with the fact that her breasts were fully accentuated by her dress or that a certain drop of sweat was currently trickling between them. Yatsuhiro's mouth went dry, and he looked away for a split second to pull himself together. He was not the kind of man to ogle a woman like this. His parents and his strict, high class upbringing had taught him better than that. So why couldn't he look away? Why did this woman affect him so? He found that even long after their short conversations had passed, he still could remember the scent of her perfume, or the way the light shone in her eyes, or the way she smiled in that irresistible way of hers. She must be the one, he thought disbelievingly. He had never believed in gods or destiny or fate, but looking at Miaka glowing like she was in the sunlight was enough to make a man jump up and shout 'Hallelujah'! Yatsuhiro coughed. "Miaka… if you're currently not busy, I would like to ask something of you."

Miaka turned her face up to him expectantly. "Oh? And what's that?"

"I wanted to ask you if you might like to join me for…" His heart was beating a mile a minute. Oh god, was he _nervous_? Since when did Yatsuhiro Aoki ever get nervous? He owned his own law firm for a reason, damnit! He struggled for an idea of what Miaka would consider the perfect date. Dinner? A movie? Was it too soon to get down on his knees and ask her to marry him? "For…" He thought again of the beating sun and his intense thirst, and he smiled. "A glass of lemonade?"

Miaka smiled in bewilderment. "Lemonade?"

"It _is_ an awfully hot day, and lemonade always does the trick for me. Would you care to join me for lunch?"

Miaka frowned, and her cute little button nose wrinkled. "I'm sorry, Aoki-san… I have other plans. Perhaps a rain check?"

Drat, he thought. He'd been foiled. Yatsuhiro shook his head and smiled, looking all the part of the dashing gentleman although on the inside he wanted to go back to his office and sulk. "Of course." Miaka smiled in return, and with a few more kind words and a wave, she turned and continued her sultry walk down the pavement.

"Oh!" Miaka stopped walking and turned to look at him over shoulder. "One more thing... I prefer iced tea."

Now it was Yatsuhiro's time to be bewildered. "Iced tea?"

Miaka nodded. "Mm-hm! Iced tea is extremely delicious. It's cold and sweet and perfect for a day like today, only it doesn't have that sour aftertaste like lemonade sometimes does. It's one of my favorite drinks."

Yatsuhiro's smile widened as he nodded and Miaka disappeared around a corner. "I'll keep that in mind."

/---/

_It couldn't be him, could it?_

This had been the silent mantra going on in Miaka's mind after she'd first seen Yatsuhiro the day they'd first met. It had been the words floating through her head every time she walked toward or away. The mantra was there when she walked with Yatsuhiro towards the restaurant, and it was there when the image of Yatsuhiro Aoki superimposed itself upon Miaka's memories of Saihitei Seishuku, twenty-something emperor of Konan and came up with no similarities whatsoever. Still, Miaka had a feeling... she didn't know exactly why, but somehow, this man she'd randomly bumped into on the street was related to her time in the Universe of the Four Gods. She was sure of it.

And she was determined to find out how.

/---/

The next time Miaka walked by Yatsuhiro's office, he was ready. He had Katya whip up a fresh batch of iced tea – the real teabag kind, not that processed, granular sugary stuff – and even wore a lighter outfit to work so he'd be prepared to stand out in the sun for long periods of time. It was almost pathetic. But he was going to get through to her this time, he was sure of it. So why was his heart beating so fast? He couldn't ever remember being this uncomfortable; this out of sorts. He was used to sitting back and letting the women come to _him_, not the other way around. He didn't like it, but somehow he'd manage. It would be worth it in the end. Yatsuhiro sighed but continued his intense perusal of the oncoming pedestrian traffic.

He still remembered the first time he'd laid eyes on Ms. Miaka Yuuki almost a month ago. He'd been overseeing the renovations to his modest but homey office and had stepped out for a moment to get away from the dangerous paint fumes. Katya had followed him out and was smoking a cigarette – really, how could she stand those vile things… the things they did to your teeth – and once again Yatsuhiro was forced to move to avoid secondhand toxic vapors. He had descended the stairs backwards; making sure his glare was clearly seen by Katya, who simply smiled in his direction, when he unknowingly backed right into the middle of the flooded sidewalk and right into Ms. Yuuki's chest.

Yatsuhiro barely managed to catch the woman before she toppled into someone else and fell to the ground. Whirling around and grabbing her firmly around her thin wrist, he had yanked her to her feet and flattened her to his chest so she wouldn't be in the way. While several passer-bys glared and muttered impatient, angry words at the bothersome couple, Yatsuhiro hardly noticed. He had tuned out the rest of the world, for the only thing he was aware of was the slight but curvy woman currently in his arms. With her wide, almond shaped brown eyes, her heart shaped porcelain face, and her sensuous mouth, Miaka truly was a sight to behold. Yatsuhiro had fallen in heavy lust with her from first sight. At that moment she cleared her throat, glanced away, and blushed, so Yatsuhiro, being the intelligent man he was, figured it was about time to let the poor woman go and start making hasty apologies.

"I'm so sorry about that, miss," He said, pulling Miaka out of the way of the pedestrian traffic and closer to his stoop before releasing her. "I wasn't paying attention, and I must have run into you. It wasn't my intention." And then Miaka smiled at him, and he knew from then on that he was a goner.

"It's all right," she told him, her smile warm and forgiving. "I understand. Everyone has their slip-ups; nothing to be worried over. God knows I've fallen flat on my face enough times by myself, so it's actually kind of refreshing to be able to blame it on someone else this time… thanks for catching me, by the way."

She was still smiling at him. Yatsuhiro had gotten the impression by the faint laugh lines on her face that she did that a lot, though he could tell she was still quite young. Maybe four, five years younger than he was at twenty-nine. Suddenly he had the intense desire to not only know exactly how old she was, but much else about her as well. Was she single? Was she looking? Did she live nearby? Did she take this route often? Would he get a chance to "run into" her again, or would he have to take the plunge and ask her for her phone number? It was clear that the woman was waiting on him to say something; to give some polite laugh or comment that would essentially dismiss her and allow her to continue with her day, but Yatsuhiro was reluctant to grant her that. He wanted to keep her there with him for as long as possible. He wanted to sit down with her – right there on the steps, if necessary – and really get to know her. So he did something then that he'd never done before.

He took hold of her hand, turned it over, and kissed her right in the middle of her palm.

Miaka was clearly surprised, but fortunately not offended. Her lips parted on a silent 'oh' as she watched him with those big, irresistible eyes of hers. A moment of sexual tension buzzed between them, but Yatsuhiro broke it by bringing out his most charming smile.

"No problem. I can think of nothing I'd rather do today than save a beautiful woman from falling on her face." Miaka laughed. "I'm Yatsuhiro Aoki. I work in the office right here behind us. And you are…?"

"Yuuki. Miaka Yuki. I'm a schoolteacher. Nice to meet you too, Aoki-san." They shared a quick smile before Miaka politely excused herself, citing a pending engagement as her reasoning behind it. As she scurried away, Yatsuhiro was sure he'd gone too far and ruined his chance with her, but then, right before she disappeared amongst the throng of people, she turned around and smiled again, and his heart swelled. It was only after she'd vanished from his sight that he realized he'd forgotten to ask when he could see her again.

Luckily it hadn't been necessary. Now that Yatsuhiro had been looking, he realized that Miaka Yuuki passed his office every day on her way to and from work. And every time she did, he was there, waiting for her. They had continued their little dance for the next month, and still Yatsuhiro hadn't been able to summon the courage to ask her out. Until yesterday, that is, and she'd politely refused, just as he had expected she would. Although Miaka had always been friendly and slightly flirtatious during all of their brief meetings, she was holding something back. Something significant. Yatsuhiro was a lawyer, and a good one to boot. He knew how to read people, and Miaka was giving off equal parts "I want to get to know you better", and "Back off, I'm not interested". He didn't know what to make of that, but he'd be damned if he wasn't going to try his luck anyway.

As Yatsuhiro sat out on the steps, his ankles crossed in front of him, the door behind him opened with a soft click, and a tall, slender Russian woman stepped out into the sun, her green eyes covered by transition glasses that grew dark within moments of being outdoors. Yatsuhiro could see her smooth legs in the corner of his vision, but he didn't turn around. Once upon a time Katya Fyodorov's keen eye for fashion and movie star good looks would've stopped him dead, but not anymore. Now he only had eyes for Miaka, and Katya had definitely noticed.

"You know, you can't finish your closing argument while you're out here sitting on the front steps." Her low, husky voice had the smallest trace of a lisp and an accent, which gave a rather memorable and surprisingly sexy quality to it. Katya smoothed her skirt down before taking a seat next to her boss. "At least… I don't _believe _you can. But I wouldn't be surprised if you could. You never cease to amaze me, _Housou_-san." Yatsuhiro preened under his secretary's compliment, but he was careful not to show it. Katya would move in for the kill if she knew her words affected him as much as they did. Yatsuhiro had always been a sucker for admiration, poor him. His ego had gotten him in quite the pickle over the years.

"Thank you," Yatsuhiro said simply. He took the cold glass of iced tea that Katya offered to him.

"I don't think she's coming, you know," the woman murmured. "It's almost after three. Mrs. Yuuki usually comes by around noon, doesn't she?"

Yatsuhiro turned puzzled eyes on his secretary. "How do you know about Miaka?"

Katya gave a sly grin. "I was there when you first saw her, remember?" Yatsuhiro didn't. He'd forgotten that the only reason he'd run into Miaka in the first place was because he was trying to escape Katya's secondhand lung cancer. "Besides, it's my job to know everything about you, Yatsuhiro… including your interest in local Japanese women." She looped her arm through his, leaning her blonde ringlet covered head against his shoulder. "I thought you were more of a connoisseur of… _exotic_ women. But it appears that you, like most men, are most comfortable dining in their own backyards."

Yatsuhiro attempted to ignore that not so subtle innuendo. "Race has nothing to do with it, and you know it. You know I consider you to be extremely attractive."

"But you're not attracted _to_ me, are you?" Katya gave a long-suffering sigh. "What a pity."

Yatsuhiro patted her hand sympathetically before taking a sip of his tea. He sighed. Nice and sweet. Maybe there was something to this iced tea drink, after all. It sure beat having to scrunch his face up when the sour aftertaste of lemonade hit him and having everyone within ten feet laugh at him. He couldn't help it… his taste buds were extra sensitive.

"Why iced tea, anyway?" Katya asked. "You always ask me for lemonade."

The man rested the cold glass against his forehead in attempt to cool himself, squinting his eyes as he searched the passing crowd. "I've recently come to a… epiphany of sorts. Iced tea is a wonderful, beautiful thing."

Katya laughed at Yatsuhiro's deadpan expression. "How can you say such a thing with a straight face? It's so obvious that you're doing all this to impress this Miaka woman. And you've come to work wearing _shorts_, no less!" She leaned back to assess him quickly, eyeing his casual attire with obvious distaste. "What kind of hold does she have on you, Yatsuhiro? Have you even ever talked to her in a setting other than your front stoop?"

Yatsuhiro took another sip of his drink. "That," He said between swallows, "is none of your business. Shouldn't you be working?"

His secretary nodded. "_Da_… that I should be. But so should _you_." Katya stood. "Make sure you're back in by four; you still have that phone conference with Tanaka-san. He wants to make sure his wife doesn't get away with half his assets."

"I've already told him that she won't, but… very well. I'll remember. I'll be in shortly." Katya nodded curtly and hurried back into the refuge of the office, and Yatsuhiro sighed again. He should probably go in as well now… his cotton polo was stained with sweat under the armpits, and he was sure that it wouldn't leave a very good impression on Miaka. He was reluctant to get up, however, in case she should suddenly come dashing around the corner. "_Yatsuhiro!" She'd say, running into his arms. "I've just realized how much you mean to me! I can't stay away from you… I love yo-"_

"Aoki-san," Miaka said again, and the man jolted from his stupor. Yatsuhiro blinked the spots out of his eyes and gazed up at the woman directly in front of him. It was considerably cooler now – Miaka was blocking the sun. His own personal sunshade. How quaint. "Aoki-san," Miaka repeated, though not unkindly. Her smile was soft and gentle. "What are you doing?"

Completely knocked off guard, Yatsuhiro blurted the first thing that came to mind. "I was waiting for you." Ugh, he was such a moron. Way to go. Miaka quirked her eyebrows, but remained silent as she waited for him to explain. "You… you promised me a lunch date, remember?"

Miaka's face lit up. "Oh! Yes, that's right! I'm _so_ sorry, Aoki-san… There was a fire drill at the school during lunch so I couldn't go out like I usually do, and then I had so much work piling up that I decided to eat at my desk. I completely forgot that you were waiting for me… forgive me."

"Don't worry about it, Miaka. As long as you're here now, nothing else matters." Yatsuhiro unfolded his lean, six foot three frame from a sitting position. Miaka looked surprised at his height. Apparently he'd never stepped down from the stairs when he talked to her, Yatsuhiro thought with much amusement. "Let us be off."

Miaka bit her lip, suddenly uncertain. "Yes, but… don't you have work?"

Yatsuhiro glanced down at his watch. "We have forty minutes. Plenty of time." They shared a small smile before Yatsuhiro offered his hand and Miaka took it. A jolt when up his spine and he knew Miaka felt it too because she gasped. How… odd, but not entirely unpleasant. Yet, there was a niggling in the back of his brain…

Somehow, he was missing something. What was his brain trying to tell him?

He ignored it for the moment, walking with Miaka away from his office. His iced tea sat forgotten on the steps, the ice cubes quickly melting under the intense heat of the sun.

/---/

Miaka looked up from her meal and squinted her eyes at some point just above Yatsuhiro's left shoulder. After walking for a good few minutes or so, they had both settled on a small, casual tempura restaurant on the corner. The quality was a lot lower than anything Yatsuhiro was used to, but it served its purpose as a first date spot. He didn't want to scare Miaka away by coming on too strong too fast, though he had probably ruined that plan when he first kissed her hand a month ago. Besides, she at least seemed happy with the choice, and as long as Miaka was happy, Yatsuhiro was happy. "Your neck…" Miaka murmured, her voice filled with something akin to awe. "You have quite a rash there…" It probably wasn't the best thing to point out on a first date with a man, but Miaka couldn't help herself. It looked… well, extremely uncomfortable, not to mention being red and angry like he'd just been badly burned. That was odd… she hadn't noticed it just minutes before.

Yatsuhiro covered the mark quickly. He had noticed it earlier in the week, but nothing he used seem to make it go away; if anything, his fussing over it only made it _worse. _Now Yatsuhiro was doubly embarrassed that Miaka had seen it as well. He could feel his skin heating up. "It's all right; it doesn't matter. I always get these rashes on my neck, and in the same spot, too. It's happened ever since I was a boy, so don't worry about it."

Miaka's interest was piqued. "Really?" She mumbled, leaning forward. Her eyes were on his neck again, and they were wide with some emotion Yatsu couldn't ascertain. He felt incredibly self conscious.

"Is… that such a wondrous thing?"

Miaka shook her head. "No, but it makes you unique. It's a part of who you are, and… I find myself wanting to learn more and more about what makes you tick, Aoki-san."

Yatsuhiro waved his hand. "Please, do not speak of me so formally, Miaka. You can simply call me Yatsu. Everyone else does."

Miaka nodded. "Okay… Yatsu then. But as I was saying, we've known each other for almost over a month now. Well… known _of_ each other. To be honest, Yatsu-san-" Yatsuhiro sighed inwardly at Miaka's insistence on honorifics, but he was careful not to show that it bothered him. "I've been wanting to get to know you better for a while now, but I guess I was a little nervous." She giggled softly. "I'm not really experienced when it comes to attracting men… I've been in one relationship for so long…"

Yatsuhiro's eyebrows climbed. "Really? How long, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Nine years," Miaka said solemnly. Yatsuhiro almost choked on his shrimp.

"But… you couldn't be more than twenty-five," Yatsu blurted, wiping his mouth daintily with a paper napkin. He did the math. "That means you were with this man since you were…"

Miaka nodded. "Fifteen, yes." She laughed out loud at Yatsu's shell shocked expression. "I admit, it was definitely a… whirlwind romance. We fell in love and planned to get married pretty quickly. I was engaged when I was just graduating from high school."

"That's…" Yatsuhiro licked his lips. He didn't know what to say. "_Amazing."_

Miaka gave a wan smile. "It is, isn't it? My mom always thought I had lost my mind when I told her I was going to get married straight out of high school, but eventually she learned to trust my judgment. I was planning a wedding while all my friends were being accepted into universities. I was married within the year." She sighed, and a small smile tugged at her mouth. "Those were some of the best years of my life."

Yatsuhiro was as curious as ever about what exactly had happened to her long-term, wonderful boyfriend and then husband, but it didn't seem like his place to ask - especially when Miaka spoke of him with such wistfulness in her eyes. Instead, he cleared his throat and changed the subject.

"So you say you didn't go to college? What is your occupation, then?"

"No, I went to college… just not right away. Eventually Ta- I mean, _my husband_ and my mom convinced me to continue working on my education, so I went. I graduated a couple of years ago with a middle school teaching certificate. I've always loved kids." Miaka placed her chopsticks on her napkin and leaned forward. "What about you, Yatsu-san? Do you have any children?"

He laughed at the absurdity of the question. "Heavens, no… I'm not married, and never have been. It just never seemed like the right time or person. But I certainly like them well enough. Children, I mean. I have several nieces and nephews who I adore… I come from a pretty close family. Would you like to see them?"

Miaka nodded, and, his eyes lit by excitement, Yatsuhiro reached into his wallet and pulled out several small photographs of his family. Miaka devoured them with her eyes. Most of his family looked alike, and were huddled together close and wearing genuine smiles that revealed a close-knit, if not a little chaotic, family. One of the photographs was a portrait with Yatsuhiro and several other men and women his age or slightly older or younger that must be his brothers and sisters, along with an older couple that must be his parents. They all looked very happy together. The baby photos, which could only be the nieces and nephews, were adorable and just as heartwarming, and Miaka found that by the time she was finished looking she had tears in her eyes. She hastily wiped them away. She had hoped he wouldn't, but Yatsuhiro had noticed.

"Miaka… is there something wrong?"

"No… I'm just… touched by how close your family looks." _'If you are who I think you are, I'm glad you finally got the life you deserve.'_

Yatsuhiro smiled. "Yes, I have been very lucky. My brothers can be a nuisance and my sisters are quite… rambunctious, but in the end I wouldn't trade them for the world."

Miaka smiled too. "I think you're the most handsome of the four brothers," She said shyly, and her eyes were searching. Was she testing him? That had to be a trick question. But Yatsuhiro mentally shrugged and gave a casual, honest answer…

"Thank you. I think so too. We're all pretty alike, but it's the subtle differences that make the man." Miaka covered her mouth and laughed then, her eyes closing in mirth. Yatsuhiro grinned, glad that he was able to get such a reaction out of her. "You want me to show you?"

"Oh yes," Miaka said between giggles, her eyes warm. "Please do."

For the next ten minutes or so, Yatsuhiro proceeded to point out all the differences between his brothers' features and his own… and why his often came through as better. He kept his tone as modest as was possible ("I think" instead of "I _know_"), and occasionally he even blushed slightly when Miaka agreed with his assessment. He wasn't used to being this open with a woman - he usually just told them what they wanted to hear until he got as far into the relationship as he wanted to go, but with Miaka it was different. He didn't feel the need to hide who he was around her. He got the feeling that he could admit to being a drunk and a porn-addict and this woman would respond with sympathy and support rather than aversion. She was just that caring.

"…And Akahito, though he is definitely attractive, doesn't have my high cheekbones. His face is more of a round shape, while mine is more angular. Everyone knows that high cheekbones help make a man look more masculine, and…"

"I hate to interrupt, Yatsu-san, but…" Miaka tapped her cell phone, which was sitting on the table between them and had the time displayed on its tiny screen. "It's five past four."

Yatsuhiro blinked to clear his mind. Five past four? Why had she told him… oh, because he had an appointment as of five minutes ago. He sighed. "And I was just getting to the best part…"

Miaka giggled, gathering her garbage in a pile on her plate and standing up. "Maybe we can finish this… interesting discussion some other time. I really should be heading back myself." She reached for her cup and took a sip of its contents. Iced tea. Of course. Yatsuhiro himself had gone for a cola. "I really enjoyed myself today, Yatsu-san. I really hope we can get together again like this."

Yatsuhiro stood up as well. "So do I." They walked over to the trashcan together, dumped their trays, and then proceeded to the exit. "I haven't enjoyed myself like this in a long time. I hope I didn't bore you by talking about myself and my family so much. I know that's usually a no-no with women – especially on first dates."

Miaka shook her head. "Not with me. I want you to be honest and open with me, Yatsu-san – I don't believe that people should change who they are or how they act just to impress someone… it just makes it that much harder to find a person you're compatible with. Besides, I said I've wanted to get to know you, and so far..." Her lips twitched. "I think I have a pretty good idea about who you are as a person."

Yatsuhiro winced. "I hope that's a good thing."

"It is. Trust me, it is."

Yatsuhiro turned to look down at her. Miaka was staring up at him with her heart in her eyes, and everything he saw there warmed him to the core. So he hadn't messed up his chances by being totally arrogant; oddly enough, it seemed to have _endeared_ him to her. His heart hammered in his throat and his mouth went dry. God, she was so amazing. So beautiful and so pure, and even though he had just eaten large portions of fried seafood, he felt starved. Starved for _her. _He wanted to grab her in his arms and kiss the daylights out of her. He wanted to get down on his knees and ask her to marry him. He wanted to fight wars for her, write songs for her. He wanted to make up for all the time they'd lost while she'd been with Tamahome-

Yatsuhiro frowned. …Where had that thought come from? He'd only known her a month, and she hadn't been seeing anyone since then. That he was sure of. And who the hell was 'Tamahome'? What kind of name was that, anyway?

"Yatsuhiro?" He looked at her. "Is everything okay?"

Yatsuhiro swallowed. "Miaka, I apologize in advance if you don't want me to, but I'm going to kiss you now." Miaka barely had time to blurt out a startled 'wha-?' before Yatsuhiro closed the distance between them.

And then they kissed, and _oh_ did they kiss! Yatsuhiro had been expecting, no, anticipating the feelings that washed over him now, but he surely didn't know they would be so strong! The passionate heat spread from where it originated at his mouth to every inch of his body, until he was nearly drowning in it. Yatsu had always prided himself as a reasonable man, if not a little too conservative at times. But when he was with Miaka, he lost all rhyme and reason. He wanted to grab hold of her and never let go. He wanted to kiss her senseless and then claim her as her own. He wanted to make sure that no matter how short or long their impending affair was, Miaka would remember it for the rest of her life. When had he become so possessive? He'd always been a respectful, decent man, but he was beginning to see with increasing dread that this little woman with the soft kissable lips brought out the absolute worst in him. Honestly, it was if he were afraid she'd fall in love with another man right in between kissing the daylights out of her! But it was quite obvious that Miaka didn't _want_ to go anywhere.

She tasted of fried shrimp and iced tea and something that was utterly feminine and utterly Miaka. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer, giving her his all right there in the middle of the restaurant. A few people looked on with disdain – public displays of affection were extremely frowned on in Japan – but for once Yatsuhiro didn't care about anyone's opinions of him. The only one who mattered right now was Miaka, sweet Miaka, who tasted like joy and love and everything that was right and good in the world. He wanted to bind them together; keep them in this position for as long as he could, but apparently all the wishing in the world amounted to nothing, because right then Miaka broke the kiss and rather sharply pushed him away.

"I'm sorry," she said, and she looked just as breathless and disoriented as he felt. "I have to go." Before he could gather his wits to protest, Miaka had snatched up her purse from where it had fallen and practically ran out the door.

And just that fast, the best afternoon of his life had turned into the worst.

/---/

'_Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod…'_

Miaka had her hands over her mouth as she ran, almost running right into a street vendor and crushing someone's Yorkshire terrier. She barely managed an apology before she was off and running again. She couldn't slow down, and she couldn't look back. Yatsuhiro might be chasing after her, and she knew she wouldn't be able to bare the expression that must now be on his face.

'_What did I just __**do**__?!?'_

In record time, Miaka found her way back to the school parking lot and to her car. Only then did she allow herself to slow down and catch her breath. Her hair had pulled free from her loose ponytail in her haste to get away, and now she knew she must look ten kinds of ridiculous. People were already throwing her looks and giving her a wide berth in case whatever she was running from came after them, too. She almost wanted to laugh, but she was too breathless. People could be such assholes sometimes. Her hands shaking, Miaka somehow managed to unlock her door and get into her car. For a while, she just sat there.

She'd just given tongue to Hotohori. Oh _gods._

No… The hair and eyes and facial structure were all wrong… that couldn't _possibly_ be Hotohori, could it? The warm, golden brown eyes she remembered were now a glacial shade of grey, and the hair was too short, too dark, and too… _Mario Lopez_. Miaka laughed a little as she imagined Hotohori with Mario's dimples and boyish good looks, but her mood quickly sobered. That couldn't be Hotohori… but Yatsuhiro had that same overwhelming aura of entitlement and confidence, even if did happen to be the slightest bit more subtle. This was a man who was used to getting his way, whether it be in the boardroom… or the bedroom. Miaka flushed. Good god, what was wrong with her?! This was definitely not turning out the way she had planned. She was supposed to meet casually with Yatsuhiro a few times until she could be certain whether or not he was really Hotohori, and then she was going to from there. But even though she still couldn't ascertain the truth, she was beginning to discover that she was falling in love with the man anyway. _Drat. _This could get messy. So Miaka decided to do what she always did when things got frustrating and sticky…

She went crying to Nuriko.

/---/

"Just follow your heart," the man told her, sporting the new bleached blond look that everyone was wearing in Tokyo recently. His eyes were still a beautiful amber color, but really that was the only thing that Aki Hideki had in common with the Nuriko Miaka had known from the Universe of the Four Gods, at least physically speaking. And if that were the case, why couldn't Yatsuhiro be-? "So what if this guy doesn't turn out to be_ Heika_- er, I mean Hotohori? You obviously like the guy, so I say go for it! At least you'll get some good nooky out of the deal, _ne_?"

"AKI!" Miaka shouted, blushing furiously. "Stop _saying_ things like that!"

Aki stared at her with wide, innocent eyes. "What? Nooky? Come on, Miaka, you're twenty-six. You're supposed to be past that whole blushing virginal teenage thing, although I have to admit that it looks pretty cute on you." Miaka shoved him, and he laughed. "Come on, you know I'm only kidding." He cocked his head at her. "You're pretty sure that this Aoki guy is Hotohori, am I right? You wouldn't have even approached him if you didn't. So… what are you waiting for? Drop some hints or something! Me and Heika-sama have a lot of catching up to do!" Aki waggled his eyebrows. "Do you think he might be gay this time?"

Miaka snorted. "The way he looks at me when I'm around? Not a chance."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

Miaka hugged herself. "I'm not used to Hotohori being so… _forward. _At least, not in that way. Don't get me wrong, he's always polite, but…"

Aki stared at her. "But he's not Taka."

Miaka frowned, her eyebrows furrowed. "I never said that."

"You didn't have to. I can see it in your eyes. You're happy because you have a feeling Yatsuhiro might be Hotohori, but you're anxious because he's obviously attracted to you, and you don't know how to handle it."

Miaka narrowed her eyes. "When did you become a psychologist?"

Aki flashed his teeth. "Since the day I was born." His expression sobered. "Miaka, it's been two years. Isn't about time you let him go and move on? I mean, I miss him too, but…"

What was she going to do? What would Tamahome want her to do?

The thought of her ex awakened a whole batch of memories, both good and bad – Tamahome saving her from those bandits the first time they met… Tamahome proposing… Tamahome and herself when they 'broke up' during the Stargazing Festival. That first fight she'd had with Taka over the wedding expenses. The night after, when Taka had vowed to 'make it up to her'… and the both of them had gone to sleep smiling. For almost ten years, they'd been together. For almost ten years, they'd stayed together, through some of the hardest trials and obstacles that anyone could ever experience. Their relationship had begun on a wing and a prayer, but it turned into one of those relationships that lasted forever. Taka might be gone now, but to Miaka their love was still burning as brightly as ever.

It'd been two years, but she still missed him like he'd died yesterday.

"Miaka, sweetie," Nuriko consoled as the woman began to cry. "I know how you feel. I know that you miss him, and you want to honor his memory, but… he's dead. And you're not. You can't stop living before it's your time. Even if nothing comes out of meeting with this Yatsuhiro guy, you owe it to yourself to try. You owe it to yourself to give it your all. That's what you really want whether you know it or not, Miaka. What you need. You need to see the joy in life like you used to. You need to take chances. You need to _live." _He hugged her. "I know that it feels like the gods have abandoned you, but they haven't. You're Suzaku's shining star, Miaka - He'll always watch over you. And yeah, sometimes I think he's a bit of an asshole too for what he let happen to Taka, but it's beyond our control now. We can only play the hand Fate has dealt us. We can only learn to move on. Promise me you'll try to move on, Miaka. Promise me you'll try."

Miaka nodded. She wanted to try; she really did.

But it was _so_ hard.

/---/

"I'm sorry," Yatsuhiro said, rising from his seat at the conference table. The other lawyers shot him equally surprised and confused glances. "But I can't do this right now." He passed Katya on his way to the door, who shot him a murderous glare before following him out.

"What the hell is going on with you?" She hissed after shutting the door. She stomped over to him and stabbed him in the chest with a well manicured finger. "There are some of the most powerful men in the business in there, asking for _your_ input, and all you can say is 'I'm sorry?' All you can do is walk away?" Her face was appalled. "I don't understand you, Yatsuhiro-housou! You've been off your game all this week! Your firm is fairly new, and if you continue down this path, you will lose your building reputation! Do you understand what's at stake here?!"

"I know," Yatsuhiro said simply. "And I can't really bring myself to care." Katya gaped at him, struggling to find the right words, before she threw her hands up in exasperation and stormed away to her desk. The door to the conference room had opened, and six faces were staring bewildered out at him.

"I'm sorry, gentlemen," he said to his subordinates while he loosened his tie and slid his jacket off. "But I'm taking the rest of the day off. If you wish, you all are free to do the same." And with that, Yatsuhiro collected his few belongings from his office and left. It was only after he closed the front door behind him that he realized he had nowhere to go – his maid was still cleaning his house at this time every day, and he certainly didn't want to deal with her while being in such a foul mood. Akemi-san could be quite noisy, not to mention stubborn. With a sigh, Yatsuhiro headed down the back alley towards the parking lot and his car.

Ever since the kissing debacle at the tempura restaurant last week, Yatsuhiro had been inconsolable. He couldn't sleep, he couldn't eat, and he couldn't think, at least not of anything except Miaka. He wanted desperately to see her again; to apologize for any discomfort he may have caused, but while he had seen Miaka twice a day before, now he didn't see her at all. He spent literally hours on his office porch or at his window watching the crowd, and although he did catch some women's eyes, none of them were Miaka. She was avoiding him, and it was killing him. He wanted to grovel and beg… he wanted to hug her and make her laugh. He wanted to see her beautiful smile…

And as much as he hated to admit it, he wanted to kiss her again. Yatsuhiro groaned out loud at the feelings the thought awakened in him, and suddenly he had the intense desire to punch something. He froze. He'd heard footsteps from behind him, to his right; the kind of careful, quiet footsteps people made when they didn't want you to hear them. Yatsuhiro braced himself, bringing all his martial arts training to the forefront of his mind as he turned-

…and saw Miaka standing there, in the flesh, looking the part of a deer trapped in the headlights. Yatsuhiro blew out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. "Miaka." He said her name with relief, and with love. "You startled me."

"I'm sorry," she murmured, walking over to him with her arms wrapped around herself. "Your secretary told me I could find you out here… you really should put more streetlights in the lot. It's dangerous." It was midday and bright as it could be. Miaka seemed to realize this herself, because she blushed. "At night, I mean." She gave a pathetic excuse for a smile. It hurt Yatsuhiro to look at it.

He nodded. "Thank you. I'll remember that." They stared at each other. Yatsuhiro sighed and took the plunge. "Where were you this week? I've been missing the sight of your smile." He said it in jest, but the moment the words escaped his mouth he began to regret them. Miaka's small smile faded away to nothing, and a glint of embarrassment and remorse flashed behind her eyes. Yatsuhiro backpedaled so fast he feared he'd end up in the Bahamas somewhere. "Not that I was looking for you, of course," he blurted. "I just noticed in passing… you know, as I was… getting the mail." Never mind that his assistant always got the company's mail, and that the postal worker didn't arrive until late afternoon - long after Miaka would have gone. _She _didn't have to know that.

Miaka bit her lip and gave a shaky smile. "Yatsuhiro… you're a horrible liar."

Right about now he would have to agree. "All right… I admit. I _have_ been looking for you, Miaka. I've missed you." He took a step towards her. Miaka took a dainty step back. "I know it makes me seem like a murderous stalker, and please forgive me if you see me that way, but… I've grown accustomed to you in these past few weeks. I've wanted to get to know you better, but I didn't want to appear like I was trying too hard for your affections. I didn't want to scare you away. Though, I think I've accomplished just that…"

Miaka shook her head. "No… you didn't scare me away. That's not why I haven't been walking by. It's just… I've been…" She worried her lip again. Her eyes darted away from him. "…Occupied."

"It's probably none of my business, but…"

"You're right," Miaka snapped, eyes narrowed. "It _isn't_ your business." Her expression fell. "I'm sorry… you didn't deserve that. It's just…"

Miaka's face just then was absolutely heartbreaking. Yatsuhiro figured her to be no more than twenty-five, yet the pain and maturity behind those eyes was enough to suffocate him. He itched to hold her in his arms; to shield her from the sadness he knew she must be feeling, although he didn't know _why_ she was feeling that way. But he wanted to find out. "You don't have to tell me anything that makes you feel uncomfortable." Yatsu's mouth twitched in Miaka's same pathetic attempt of a smile. "You hardly know me, after all."

"But I want to know you, Yatsuhiro!" Miaka cried, dissolving into tears. Yatsuhiro stood stunned. "That's what scares me!" She took several long, deep breaths to calm herself… and then broke into a coughing fit.

Yatsuhiro grabbed hold of her shoulders. "Miaka?!"

"It's okay… just my allergies…" Miaka coughed, then gasped. "I need… do you… something to drink?" Yatsuhiro rushed into the office and returned with a glass of the first beverage he'd been able to grab from the refrigerator, the liquid splashing and dribbling down the outside of the glass in his haste to pour and deliver it to her. Once back at Miaka's side, Yatsuhiro thrust the frosty drink in front of the woman's face and waited with bated breath as she took a long, deep gulp. Miaka gasped, wiping the stray droplets off her face. The woman managed to smile. "Iced tea," she whispered. "You remembered…"

Yatsu nodded. "I haven't forgotten a single thing you've told me. That's how lovesick you've made me, Miaka." He took another small step toward her, and this time she didn't try to get away. Instead, she looked up at him with her big, chocolate brown eyes with anticipation and fear shining in them. "I don't even know who I am around you." He reached out a gentle hand, cupping Miaka's cheek and wiping the tears away. "What," He murmured, taking the empty glass from Miaka's hands and setting it on the hood of his car, "do you have to be afraid of?" Yatsu was so close to her now that he could feel her short breaths against his face. He dared to lean even closer. "What… do you have to be afraid of from _me?_"

Miaka's eyes fluttered. She licked her lips, and Yatsuhiro followed the motion. "Everything," She whispered. "I'm afraid…" Her next words were swallowed by Yatsu's lips on hers. A surprised squeak faded into a moan, and soon she had completely surrendered to her desire and had pressed herself intimately against him. Their tongues met in an intimate dance. Miaka smelled and tasted subtly of the tea she'd just drank, and coupled with her natural warmth and flavor, she was irresistible. Nice and sweet. Yatsuhiro felt as if he had just died and gone to heaven, but the thought of what he believed she'd said made a heavy lump form in his throat.

"_I'm afraid of falling in love with you." _

Yatsuhiro closed his eyes and deepened the kiss, wrapping his arms around her. He sucked the sweet taste of tea from her tongue, enjoying the pleasured groan she elicited in response. Then, he spun her around so her back was against his car and she was trapped between it and him, pressing himself further against his body. Miaka whimpered and grinded her hips against his, the little devil, and Yatsuhiro thought he was about to blast off to another planet. "Easy now," He told her as he pulled away. His voice was ragged. "We _are_ in a parking lot."

Miaka blushed. "Sorry." The moment had been broken. Yatsuhiro reluctantly stepped away and gave Miaka some breathing room. They stared at each other, breathing hard, though occasionally Miaka's gaze traveled down to the growing bulge in his pants, which he was currently trying to fight. _'Down boy… dooown boy. Uma Thurman! There you go.' _His little 'problem' under control, Yatsuhiro turned his full attention to the woman standing opposite him.

"I was in love once," Miaka blurted, her eyes cast downward. "He was my first true love, but… he passed away. A little over two years ago. There was a fire at our apartment… he didn't make it…"

Yatsuhiro gasped. "I'm _so_ sorry to hear that, Miaka. If I knew… if I had known that, I never would have pursued you like I have."

Miaka shook her head. "Taka would've wanted me to be happy…"

_Taka_. He knew that name from somewhere; with the same familiarity that he knew of Miaka's, or that Tamahome person he'd pictured before. But _why?_

"That's why I've been away from you so long – I _was_ running. I… I felt like I was betraying Taka by just talking to you, but then I had an epiphany. Taka may be… dead, but I'm not. And I can't let my life end before it's time. Taka wouldn't want that for me. He'd want me to move on… to continue living my life. I've been mourning ever since he died, but when I first saw you… suddenly, I didn't want to mourn anymore. And that scared me. I've never felt something so… right before. Not since Tama- I mean… Taka." She gazed up at him. "I've been thinking of every way possible to keep my distance from you while seeing you at the same time. Calling you –san was one of those, and yes I did notice how much you didn't like it." She actually smiled. "I… I'm sorry for running. I know I must've worried you, and I want you to know nothing you did made me do it. I liked it, when you kissed me. Both times." She chuckled. "You're a good kisser – no, an excellent kisser. And I love a man confident enough to talk about how great they think their-" She snorted. "_Cheekbones_ are. I was being honest when I told you I had a good time before. I hope you don't think I was lying about that."

"Of course not." Yatsuhiro hugged her tight. "Miaka… I don't think any less of you because you're afraid. To be honest, I'm afraid too. I've never been so… taken with a woman before, at least not so soon after meeting them. I almost believe we were meant to meet like this. Like we are fated. Silly, isn't it?"

An odd expression passed over Miaka's face. "Not as silly as you think."

Yatsuhiro smiled. "Well, why don't we get us some tempura and you can tell me all about it..."

/---/

'_Protect her… protect her…'_

These dreams… could they even be considered dreams? While Yatsuhiro was asleep, his vision remained black, but a single voice called out to him. At first, the words were hardly intelligible, but the more often he had these – were they visions? -, he began to understand them more and more. Something, _someone_, wanted him to protect her. But who was her? And why did he have to be the one doing the protecting? He was so confused.

'_She needs you… don't leave her… protect her, protect her…'_

Protect who? Why? Who was this voice in his head?

'_Keep her safe… love her… in my place. I trust you, Sai.'_

Who the hell was Sai?

'_But if you hurt her…'_

'_**There'll be hell to pay.' **_

And Yatsuhiro woke up.

/---/

She still didn't know if he was Hotohori.

Sure, the big rash where his symbol would be was… promising, if not a bit gross, but it wasn't a whole lot to go on. The fact that his family was the same size and had the same brother-to-sister ratio as Hotohori's also was a big coincidence, but still, it wasn't much. Yes, Yatsuhiro was vain and thought highly of himself, but most guys today did. Usually it was a big turn-off, but for some reason narcissism worked for Hotohori. It worked for Yatsuhiro, too. Hmm.

Regardless of whether or not Yatsuhiro was Hotohori's reincarnation, Miaka was falling for the guy. That much, she knew. And since that was the case, was she falling for him because he reminded her of Hotohori, or because he _was_ Hotohori? Had she ever loved Hotohori in that way? Since she'd been with Tamahome nearly the whole time she'd known the man, Miaka would usually say no. But now, she wasn't quite so sure. Although it was painful to think about, maybe if she'd met Hotohori first, she would've fallen for him instead. Maybe the love for the emperor of Konan that she thought was platonic was really suppressed romantic love. Was it even possible to love two different men at the same time? Miaka didn't think so. But then again, what did she know? She was far from being an expert when it came to relationships. But along the way and especially after Taka's death, Miaka was convinced that Tamahome had been her soulmate. So if she was falling for Yatsuhiro now and he was Hotohori's reincarnation, what did that make Hotohori? Her brain hurt.

So she had decided not to dwell on it any longer. If he was Hotohori, great. If he wasn't, also great. She wasn't going to force him to remember, and she wasn't going to drive herself crazy with speculations. _Qué sera sera. _Whatever will be, will be.

Miaka's eyes searched for Yatsuhiro as she prepared to cross the street. His office was in front of her, just two buildings from the corner. And there he was, leaning on the stair rail, waiting for her. They met for lunch every day now, and every time she saw him, her love for him grew. He had asked her once if she believed in destiny, and she had said she did. She had been destined to become the Priestess of Suzaku, and to meet and fall in love with Tamahome. She had been destined to marry him, she was sure. But maybe, just maybe, destiny didn't apply to everything. Maybe sometimes even the gods stood back from it all and just let the chips fall where they may.

And so engrossed in her thoughts was she, she didn't even notice the light turning red, or the silver Honda screeching around the corner.

/---/

Miaka stepped out onto the crosswalk with love in her eyes, walking briskly as she started making her way over to him. Yatsuhiro's heart swelled. It was about time he stopped wasting breath and decided to settle down with a magnificent woman; a woman just like Miaka. He still didn't know why he loved her as much as he did in such a short time of knowing her, but he no longer questioned it. Apparently, it just wasn't for him to know. At this point, he didn't care. Whether it was fate or destiny or pure dumb luck, he was eternally grateful for it. He raised his hand to wave, but a silver blur in the corner of his eye caught his immediate attention. A silver Honda was barreling down the street at least fifty miles an hour, swerving back and forth as it neared the crosswalk.

And it was headed straight toward Miaka.

"MIAKA!" He yelled, but it was too late. Yatsuhiro watched helplessly as metal smashed against metal, creating a bloodcurdling, metallic gnashing noise that vibrated though his very bones. Glass sprayed the concrete in both small fragments and large. And Miaka's body lay, limp as a ragdoll, amongst the wreck, her new clothes stained with freshly spilled blood. _Her_ blood. Yatsuhiro ran to her side, shrieking her name.

"MIAKA! _**MIAKA!**_"

The Honda had slammed into Miaka and sent her flying before veering slightly to the right and smashing into the hood of a car faced in the opposite direction behind the crosswalk. The impact had pushed the second car several feet back, and oh god, _Miaka_… Miaka had crumpled to the ground in a heap, bleeding furiously and seemingly unconscious. Yatsuhiro fell to his knees in front of her, unable to think rationally. What should he do? Should he move her? _Could_ her move her? How was he going to stop the bleeding, and oh god there was so much blood-!

"Somebody call an ambulance!" Someone yelled. Yatsuhiro was grateful to whoever it was, because God knew he wouldn't even have been able to dial the number.

"Miaka…" Gingerly, he reached out to her, pulling her slowly into his arms. Her eyes were open, but she was hardly breathing. Her lips began to move, so Yatsuhiro leaned in to listen. She said his name. And then:

"I'm sorry." Yatsuhiro didn't know what she meant by that, but it couldn't be good.

"I lost you once," Yatsuhiro choked out, shaking her slightly. "I can't lose you again!! _Please,_ Miaka, stay with me!"

Miaka's dazed eyes focused for a moment to stare at him in awe. "Yatsu…hi…ro…"

"Yes, Miaka… talk to me. Don't go to sleep, all right? I need you to stay here with me!"

He could hear the sirens wailing in the distance, but the ambulance wasn't going nearly fast enough for his liking. He needed them there _now,_ not later. Later would be too late. Miaka was drifting away right underneath his fingertips. Her life force weaved around him like thin, tangled threads. Yatsuhiro closed his eyes and grasped for them, but they escaped his hold every time.

"Hoto…hori."

Yatsuhiro's eyes snapped open. His head jerked down to look at her. There was a knot forming in his gut. "What… what did you say?"

Miaka closed her eyes. "Ho…to…" Her voice trailed off. He finished the word for her in his mind. _"-hori."_

"Who is that? A family member? Should I call them?" He wasn't going to be able to get a phone number out of her, and as far as he knew her cell phone had been pulverized in the accident. "Oh please, Miaka… don't leave me... not so soon after I've found you…"

She managed to smile, though it was shaky. "I'm sorry. I… _wo ai ni_." There were tears in her eyes. "_Sayonara."_

"No, Miaka! Hold on!"

Miaka's body went still and her eyes rolled back. She had fainted.

And then, the memories started.

/---/

'_Protect her… please, keep her safe.'_

This dream was different from the other ones. There wasn't just a disembodied voice anymore; it was an actual human being standing there, smiling sadly at him. His eyes were a grayish blue, and his hair was long and black and pulled back into a ponytail. He was very handsome… but Yatsuhiro still didn't know who he was.

Then, a sharp pain penetrated his skull, and suddenly, he _did _know. Taka Sukanami, reincarnation of Kishuku Sou, a.k.a. Tamahome. A Suzaku warrior, and one of his closest friends. Yatsuhiro closed his eyes. "Taka… I'm so sorry…"

'_Don't let her die…'_

"How can I prevent it?"

'_She wants to see me, but… not yet. I'm not ready to see her yet. I don't want her to die.'_

"Neither do I."

Taka walked over and clapped Yatsu on the shoulder. _'Then keep her safe for me. I know you can do it… my friend.' _He smiled. Yatsuhiro nodded.

"I will."

'_Thank you.'_

Yatsuhiro suddenly felt very heavy, and then… nothing.

/---/

Yatsuhiro Aoki awoke in a hospital bed with no recollection of where he'd been or what had happened. The room was bare save for the essentials, such as the bed, a bedside table, and a plasma television hanging on the wall. A blond man he'd never met was sitting beside him, holding his hand. His other hand was occupied with flipping the pages of a magazine lying in his lap. Yatsuhiro licked his lips and cleared his throat. The blond looked up, did a double take, and then smiled serenely. He turned back to his magazine.

"Hello… Hotohori."

Yatsu groaned. "…Where am I?"

The blond man chuckled, releasing Yatsu's hand to gesture around the room. "Where does it look like?"

"No… why am I here?"

Finally abandoning his magazine, the man gazed at Yatsu with consternation. "You…" He furrowed his eyebrows. "You do know who you are, right?" Yatsuhiro nodded, and the man visibly relaxed.

"I'm Yatsuhiro Aoki. I'm twenty-nine years old." The blond man's face fell again. Apparently that wasn't the response he wanted to hear. Yatsu sighed, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "And… I just found out that I'm a reincarnated emperor from Ancient China."

Blondie grinned. "So you _do_ remember. Everything?"

"Yes. Is Miaka… is she-?"

"She came out of surgery a few hours ago. She'll live, but it'll take her awhile to recover. She had a lot of internal injuries, but luckily nothing that couldn't be repaired. She a broken leg, as well." Blondie deposited his magazine on the bedside table and stood up. "They say you fainted at the scene of the accident and started going into seizures. And all the while you kept mumbling: _'Miaka, Miaka.'_" Blondie did a fairly good imitation of him. He smiled. "When I heard about what happened to Miaka, and then what happened to you in result, I knew. I knew you had to be Heika-sama." Tears sprang to the man's eyes. "Welcome back."

Yatsuhiro frowned. "I'm sorry, but I can't… I can't tell who _you_ are."

Blondie bowed. "Nuriko no Suzaku Shichiseishi at your service, Your Majesty. But here and now, you can call me Aki Hideki."

Yatsuhiro assessed Aki quietly. "You look nothing alike."

Aki laughed out loud. "Neither do you, Hotohori. Neither do you." He offered Yatsu his hand. "Miaka's probably awake by now… you wanna go see her?"

"I don't know," he said honestly, looking up at the ceiling. "Will she suddenly realize she doesn't love me? Will I soon discover that I'm just a replacement for the man she's lost?"

Aki took his hand back. He was quiet for a long time. "…That was unspeakably cruel, Heika-sama."

"I'm sorry. And don't call me that."

"Miaka isn't the kind of woman to lead you on, and you know it. If she loves you, you'll know. And you _do_ know, don't you. You're not a replacement for Taka. You could _never_ replace Taka-"

"Gee, thanks-"

"-and you shouldn't want to! Taka and you are completely different men! So why should there be any doubt in your mind that Miaka loves the both of you in two very equal, but very different ways?! Don't you know how reincarnation works for us, Hotohori?" Aki's voice had fallen to a whisper. "Don't you know that we are only born when the priestess needs us to be? We are born, forever and ever more, for Miaka! And after Taka died, Miaka needed us! She needed her family back! Don't you see?! Miaka's not trying to replace the love she's lost… she knows that's impossible. But she does want to move on. With _you, _Heika-sama. She wants to move on with you. I've never seen her this happy in years. _You_ make her happy. So stop doubting yourself and get in there and kiss the daylights out of her, you _jerk._"

Yatsuhiro laughed. "You're right, Nuriko. I'm being foolish. But what should I say to her? 'Gee, Miaka, guess what? You were right, and I am your long lost warrior from hundreds of years ago? And even after all this time, I still want to jump your bones?'"

Aki clapped Yatsuhiro on the back as he stood up. Realizing he was wearing nothing but a thin hospital gown, Aki blushed and turned his back while Yatsu changed into his street clothes, freshly washed and pressed by some mysterious do-gooder. "I think you should definitely go for that jumping her bones thing, Heika," Aki deadpanned as he turned back around. "I have a feeling that she'll really, _really_ like that."

"…I have no idea how you can say that with a straight face," Yatsuhiro mumbled as he adjusted his shirt collar and followed Aki out of the room. "But I hope one day you'll teach me."

/---/

"Miaka."

Miaka opened her eyes and looked at him, and suddenly she knew. This was her future. Being with Yatsuhiro Aoki had been the closest thing to heaven that she'd had in over two years, and she never wanted to let that feeling go. She smiled at him through the pain as he walked briskly over to her, his face drawn tight with worry.

"I'm fine… really," Miaka insisted, even as Yatsuhiro inspected her with his eyes and hands. Her voice was slurred from the anesthesia, but her words were clear. "It's okay, Yatsuhiro. Everything's okay. The police investigators were here. They say the driver of the Honda had a sudden heart attack and died, but his foot was still on the gas, so his car went out of control. The other driver made it out fine, though. I was the only severe casualty." She attempted to laugh to cut the tension in the room, but it didn't work. Yatsuhiro was silent and unbearably tense, but when he reached out to touch her face, his touch was gentle. Suddenly he seemed to deflate, all the tension leaving him at once, leaving him extremely tired and worn looking. She'd forgotten that he had been through quite a bit today as well.

"Thank god you're all right," He sighed out, sitting in the lone chair by her bedside. He grasped her hand in both of his. There were tears in his eyes. "I was so scared that I'd lose you… that I'd never get to tell you how much I love and adore you. How much I want to spend the rest of my life with you." He wiped Miaka's own tears away with the pad of his thumb. "It all seemed so cruel… for you to die on me right after I began to remember…"

Miaka's eyes widened. "Remember…?"

Yatsu nodded. "That's right. I remember everything." A long silence passed before he clarified. "I am – or at least I was - Saihitei Seishuku. Hotohori."

"I knew it," She whispered. "I knew you were him. I just needed to be sure. All this time… there were just too many coincidences, and-"

"Do you love me, Miaka?" Yatsuhiro interjected.

"Yes," Miaka said without hesitation.

"Do you love me as Yatsuhiro Aoki, or do you love me as Hotohori?" At Miaka's confused expression, he continued. "Yatsuhiro and Hotohori are not the same. At least, not exactly. Do you understand, Miaka? I was made to love you when I was a warrior, but now I'm just a man. A man with a very odd, very… noticeable rash. I'm not an emperor anymore. I can't promise you all the things I was able to promise you in my former life. But I can promise you one thing – I have always loved you, and will always love you, for as long as I live and then some. I will be forever faithful and by your side, no matter what hellish obstacles try to separate us. I am eternally sorry about Taka," He said, and there were tears falling from his eyes as well as hers, "But I'm afraid I cannot undo what has been done. I cannot replace the love you've lost, nor do I want to. I want you to love me, Miaka, for me, and nothing else. Not because of past regrets or obligations… not because I'm your second best. Can you do that for me, Miaka? If not, I will respect your wishes, though I'll forever continue to love you…"

Miaka giggled then, which Yatsuhiro found vastly inappropriate. Was she laughing at him? But before he could voice his indignation, the woman placed a gentle finger against his lips. Miaka smiled so serenely at him. "One thing certainly hasn't changed about you, Hotohori… you still talk way too much." Yatsu gaped, and Miaka giggled again as she leaned forward to replace her finger with her own petal soft kiss. It was heaven… no, better. Heaven always struck him as being way too conservative and boring, ironically enough. And there was nothing the slightest bit boring about kissing this woman. They pulled away way too soon. Miaka licked her lips – which brought an instant reaction to Yatsuhiro's groin – and gave him her thousand-watt smile. "I've already realized everything you've said, and I can guarantee you, Yatsuhiro, you're not just some replacement. Taka was a good man, and I will never forget him, but he would want me to move on. And, I think, he would be happy to know that I've chosen you. I love you, too. Forever and always."

"Miaka…"

"Do me a favor, would you, Yatsu-_san_?" She was teasing him again. "Kiss me again."

"Only if you do _me_ a favor and stop using honorifics. If we're going to become husband and wife, we really should be on equal, casual terms."

Miaka's eyes widened. "Yatsuhiro…?"

"Marry me, Miaka," Hotohori – no, Yatsuhiro whispered. She had to remember that he was the same, yet different now. "Make me the happiest man on earth, and I promise I'll make you the happiest woman. I will fill your days with love and iced tea."

Miaka laughed. "I don't know about that love part, but…" She wrapped her arms around Yatsu's neck, leaning in close. The couple closed their eyes as their lips met in a kiss.

"I'm really looking forward to that iced tea."

And up on Mt. Taikyoku, Taka smiled.

XXXXXX

Story Notes:

**Housou: **lawyer. In Japan it is not uncommon for one to be addressed by their title only, or have their title as a suffix to their name (Yatushiro-housou).

**-san**: Equivalent to Mr. or Mrs. in English.

**-kun: **Honorific used to address men or boys who you are especially close to.

**Heika: **Emperor, Your/His/Her Majesty

**Da: **Means 'yes' in Russian.

**Nooky: **slang for sex (lol, I love this word!)

**Sayonara: **goodbye; used when you don't plan to see someone for a long time… maybe not ever again.

**A/N: **Wow, this was so difficult. I'm not a straight up romance writer, honestly. Although I love a good romance, it always has to have serious strife and explosions and violence in it. I don't know why. Plain old romance is boring, I guess. I especially want some feedback on this one! Please and thank you! :D


	4. Simple Matters

**Title: **Simple Matters

**Genre: **General/Friendship

**Prompt: **scars

**Words: **1,687

**Rating: **PG

**Warnings: **Tasuki's language (I'm beginning to see a trend, here…)

**Summary**: Chichiri had a tendency to over analyze and over debate things. Tasuki, however, was pretty straightforward.

* * *

"Oi, Chichiri!" Tasuki waved his hand inches from Chichiri's face. The monk blinked away his thoughts and focused on the man sitting next to him. The forest was dark, and the ancient trees covered most of the pitch black sky above. Shadows danced across Tasuki's face and his eyes glowed with amusement in the campfire light. "Where th' hell are ya, 'Chiri? Ya've been zonin' out all night. Somethin's on yer mind…" The bandit leaned forward, a mischievous smirk on his face that looked slightly menacing in the dim. His fangs glistened. "Must be somethin' pretty important ta keep ya _that_ occupied."

Chichiri chuckled as he threw another log into the fire. A small spray of sparks shot up into the air. "I assure you it's nothing like _that_, no da…" He reached into his robes and pulled out a small, stout bottle that Tasuki instantly recognized. "It's just…"

Tasuki frowned in thought, his eyebrows deeply furrowed. He gestured towards the bottle. "Ya started thinkin' 'bout what Mitsukake said before he was reincarnated, aren't ya?" He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a bottle similar to Chichiri's, though Tasuki's was a slight bit taller and contained sake instead of holy water. The bandit uncorked it, took a long swig, and wiped his lip with the back of his hand before setting the drink on the grass beside him. "'Bout usin' his holy water ta fix yer eye? Ya really don't know how ta continue wit this, do ya?"

Chichiri stared at the object in his hand, deliberating on whether or not he should use it. What did it matter, really? Who cared what other people thought of him? But didn't everyone, to some degree?

At thirty-four, Chichiri had grown immensely since he was eighteen. After seeing Hikou again and finally settling the fact for good that, yes, he still loved his best friend, and yes, he did forgive him and more importantly, himself, Chichiri didn't feel it as necessary to hide his scars from the world, especially from the people he trusted with his life - his brothers. But although wearing his trademark mask wasn't a necessity anymore, his scarred eye made it difficult to wander around in public without intense scrutiny, fear, and prejudice. Some people treated him like a monster, despite the monk robes and shakujou that he carried with pride. Some treated him with sympathy, pegging him as a fallen hero of the war, which was only partially true. Some treated him with contempt, determining him as "trouble they didn't need" and escorting him rather roughly out of their establishments. Tasuki rushed to his defense no matter the situation, but honestly, Chichiri didn't need it. He had come to terms with his past long ago, and the thought of wearing his scar no longer bothered him. To some degree, he wore it with pride – he had received it while trying to save a friend; one who had betrayed him in one of the worst possible ways. And if Chichiri could forgive Hikou of that, there was nothing he couldn't overcome. It was a reminder of how strong he was, despite the most harrowing of circumstances.

Which raised a rather large question: If the scar didn't bother him, why was he trying to remove its presence from his face forever?

"No," Chichiri admitted to Tasuki's question. "I had forgotten that I even had Mitsukake's holy water until recently, and then I had forgotten the purpose of me having it, no da. It's been almost eight years, hasn't it? I am definitely calmer at heart now, no da. It shouldn't even be a matter of deciding what to do, but…"

Chichiri looked straight into his friend's eyes, and he saw the recollection of the horrible, traumatic events that had taken place eight years ago. He saw Tasuki remember their fights with Tenkou, and the encounter with Hikou that had nearly shattered them both. He witnessed the regret, the pain, and the shame the bandit, and to some degree he himself, still carried to this day because of said encounter. And then, together, the two of them remembered the words Mitsukake had uttered at the end of it all:

"_Once everything is over, I'm going to give you this sacred water. I can't take it with me when I'm reborn. This water has the ability to pull someone back from death. Your eye... if you put some on it, it'll heal. Someday, when a few seasons have passed and your heart is calmer… use it when the time is right." _

Chichiri sincerely missed the gentle healer – he hadn't said much, but whatever words that left his mouth were sure to draw your attention. He appreciated his large friend's concern, but something about using sacred water with the ability to cure illness and save lives for superficial purposes seemed rather petty.

Tasuki sighed loudly, and the moment of remembering was gone. "Look, it's really simple – do ya wanna go th' rest of yer life wit that scar or don't ya? Jus' answer yes or no."

Chichiri sighed as well. "Tasuki-"

"An' have ya thought of what would happen if ya did use that stuff? Ya prolley won't get yer sight back, yanno. Ya'll jus' look like yer winkin' all th' time er somethin'." Tasuki laughed raucously. "Man, I kin already imagine it… some big burly dude clockin' ya 'cause he thinks yer hittin' on his wife…!" He raised his voice an octave, mimicking Chichiri's cheerful tone. The monk's cheek twitched. "'Oh no, sir, I wasn't comin' on to yer wife… my eye's jus' stuck that way! See, there was a flood an' this log hit me an'-'"

"Tasuki-"

"But more than that, why would ya wanna erase somethin' that makes ya who ya are? Ya've had that scar fer… what, thirteen years?"

"Sixteen," Chichiri supplied.

Tasuki waved his hand in a careless gesture. "Whatever! The point is, ya've had it almost half yer life. _Shit, _I don't even know how I'd deal with seein' ya wit two eyes. Why'd ya wanna 'fix' it?"

Chichiri thought about it for a minute. "Because it terrifies people, no da."

"So? My face scares small chil'ren too. It's prolley th' teeth that does it. People see my fangs an'-"

"I think it's more of your pyromania and your love for fighting that-"

"-they think I'm a vampire er somethin'. Like I'll suddenly develop th' taste fer human flesh." Tasuki rolled his eyes. "Fine. I don't like kids much anyway. Loud smelly lil' brats, that's what they are."

"But you seem to get along well with Boushin-"

"-But anyway, even though my teeth make people look at me funny, ya don't see my tryna knock 'em out. Even if I could change th' way I look, I wouldn't. Know why?"

Chichiri sighed again, exasperated. "No, Tasuki. Why?"

Tasuki folded his arms and grinned, intentionally displaying his pearly whites. "Because then I wouldn't be kickass bandit Suzaku no Tasuki, that's why!"

Chichiri chuckled, turning his small bottle over and over in his hands. Tama appeared from behind the tree stump the monk was sitting on, gave a short meow, and jumped up next to him. "Pay attention to me!" The cat seemed to say. Chichiri happily obliged by scratching the cat behind his ears. Tama gave only a passing sniff to the vessel the monk was holding – it didn't contain any fish, and thus wasn't very interesting – and curled into a ball snuggled firmly against the man's thigh. "You know, Tasuki, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were against me doing this, no da."

Tasuki narrowed his eyes. "Of course I am, ya damned fool!"

"But I wasn't born this way, no da. You _were. _If I do use Mitsukake's holy water, it would only be to give me some semblance of what I once was, no da."

"But that's jus' th' thing – yer _not _th' same as ya used ta be. Yer not jus' Ri Houjun, lovesick eighteen year old. Naw, now yer Ri Houjun, also known as Suzaku no Chichiri, kickass sorcerer/seishi/monk! If ya want me ta be honest, yer scar only makes ya look _more_ badass! Ya git respect fer it!"

"I don't _want_ to look…" Chichiri thought hard on a synonym for Tasuki's new title for him. "…_intimidating_, no da. I just want to go outside without my mask and not have everyone look at me strangely." Chichiri pulled the thin flesh like material of his mask from an inner pocket of his robe and examined it. "I think I'm past the point of needing this, no da."

Tasuki frowned. "But if ya erase yer scar, isn't that the same thing as hidin'?" He leaned forward on his stump, his expression intent. "Changin' yerself jus' to make everyone else more comfortable? Even if _you_ don't want ta?" Chichiri had to admit, his friend had a point about that. "Yer not gettin' any, so it's not like it matters. Yer celibate an' whatnot, so who cares about lookin' _whole_? Th' only people who care 'bout that kind of thing is petty wimmen. _I_ don't care what th' hell ya look like, an' neither does anyone with half a brain. An' if some people look at ya funny… who th' hell cares? Screw 'em. Yer actually comin' out ahead if ya've reached thirty-four with only an eye missin' considerin' all we've been through, ne?"

It was really that simple. In less than a minute, Tasuki had just explained away every reason for why erasing the physical evidence of his past mistakes was a good idea. When it came to his bandit friend, being blunt and honest was an art form. Tactless Tasuki may be, but stupid? Chichiri knew the man was far from it, and had a heart just as big as his mouth.

His friends would accept him for who he was, not matter who that might be or who that person looked like.

And as he pocketed the bottle without another word and Tasuki grinned at him, Chichiri knew that was all that really mattered.

XXXXXX

**A/N: **Sorry about the change of plot for one-shot number four… I think I'll be changing it up a lot with these one-shots. So, at this point there's no real reason for me to announce the summaries ahead of time. Now, you guys get to be surprised. ;) Hope you enjoy!


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